Tristan
by kaitlin.perkins42
Summary: Gil is kidnapped at a crime scene. Everyone works hard to find him, while he lives in what could only be described as an AU. Warnings: NickGil, BDSM though nothing major
1. Tristan

Title: Tristan  
Rating: R or M for adult situations and minor BDSM (minor for now, it may get worse later…)  
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit of any kind is being made.  
A/N: I'm only seen a handful of CSI episodes, but I just can't get this idea out of my head, so please forgive me if the characters are a little OOC.  
A/N 2: This idea comes loosely from the Anne Rice Sleeping Beauty series.

* * *

Gil Grissom had always been preferential to the graveyard shift. It wasn't that he disliked people – quite the contrary, he enjoyed his team's company very much. It was just that the dark made the cases more intriguing. More…dangerous. 

One evening, while doing the precursory forensics on a case, Gil had heard the police officer who was present cough, but had paid the man little mind. This was an interesting circumstance in which it seemed the vic had cooperated the entire time. Despite the fact that she had laceration and whip marks over her body, and she had obviously been asphyxiated, there was no apparent sign of a struggle. She had no clothing to speak of and she was positioned oddly on her side, as though she had been deliberately lain in this sleeping position.

Gil turned around to ask the officer a question, and found his face centimeters away from the barrel of a gun. He closed his eyes and sighed before looking up. A man was frowning at him, "Just don't say a word and follow me."

Grissom knew better than to argue with a man whose gun had a silencer on it, so he stood and proceeded to leave the crime scene, the gun pressed lightly into his lower back. He had to step over the fallen officer to get outside, and as they walked towards his own vehicle, his captor came out from behind him. "Take your keys out of your pockets."

As Gil reached for his pocket, he felt the gun being shoved into his stomach. He looked up, eyes wide.

"No funny business." The man said, adjusting the gun to prove his point.

"No." Slowly, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and moved to hand them to the other man. He was shocked when he felt the gun prod him again.

"Everything out of your pockets. The vest comes off, too."

He nodded and subsequently reached down. Off came his vest and with it, his gun. It fell to the ground slowly as he reached around. On his back belt loop hung a pair of handcuffs. Just as he was about to drop them, the other man reached out, "I'll take those."

Gil nodded sadly. His wallet, a magnifying glass, and a spare pair of gloves were all eventually added to the pile before he was finished. He was taking a huge chance by keeping his cell phone on him, but he had deep pockets and it was on silent. Maybe when they got to where-ever they were going he could call someone. He nodded and his captor patted him down, Grissom couldn't help but sigh in relief when the cell phone went undiscovered. The man frowned when he failed to find anything incriminating, but contented himself with grabbing Gil's crotch, causing said man to gasp in surprise.

"C'mon, let's go, you're passenger."

As he climbed into the vehicle reluctantly, all Gil could do was nod slightly and keep a wary eye on his subjugator. He pulled his seat belt around himself and clicked it into place before a blindfold was placed snugly over his eyes, "Can't have you knowing where we are, can we?"

He shook his head tentatively, his hands in his lap. He hoped Catherine would take over, Sara would be okay, and maybe Nick…Nick could find a real nice girl. He choked on the thought _Never man enough to say anything, huh, Gil? _

"You're not gonna puke, are you?"

Gil shook his head.

"Oh, well, I guess it doesn't really matter, this isn't my car, and we'll be getting out soon, anyways." True to his word, the man stopped the car quite soon after that, though Gil wasn't sure exactly _how _soon after, as he couldn't look at his watch.

The other man opened his door and got out, then Gil heard his own door being opened. "Take off you God damn seat belt." So he did, thereafter he was roughly pulled out of the vehicle and planted firmly on the ground. "Strip."

His body went stiff. "W…What?"

"You heard me!" He felt the gun on his thigh and blanched, "I don't like giving orders more than once."

Nobody had seen Grissom naked since his boyfriend in college, and this definitely wasn't how he wanted to take the next step. To be honest, he had resigned himself to a life of working all the time, and the all to often occurring quick jerk off in order to continue his day – some men just weren't meant to have partners. Still, he had made up his mind to be complacent, so he reached down, unbuttoning his jeans, they fell to the ground and he stepped cautiously out of them. Next was his button down shirt. He flicked it off of his shoulders and heard the buttons hit the car behind him. He was left in his undershirt and boxers.

"Everything." The captor seemed to have read his mind.

Gil took a deep breath and pulled the thin shirt off, over his head dropping it beside himself. He pushed off his boxers quickly, before he lost his nerve. Wishing he could see this man's face – this man who could see all of him – he felt himself blushing and moving his hands to cover himself, but a hand stopped him.

"You're pretty good looking for an old man."

_Old man? _"Oh?"

"Besides," said the man, ignoring Gil's question, "Where you're going, you're not allowed to do that. Can you ride a horse?"

"I don't know," Gil choked out, contemplating the near future, in which he would obviously not be concealed.

"You never have?"

"Right."

"Okay, I'm gonna help you get on the horse then, but first…spread your legs, it'll make this hurt less."

"Wha – OW!" Grissom suddenly felt as though he was being impaled on something.

"You'd better keep that in the entire ride."

"I…what is it?"

"Just a didlo."

Grissom blushed again. Yes – he was gay, and extremely sexually inclined, but since forensic school, play things had taken the back burner to seemingly more important things.

"Now, reach out and you'll feel some hair. That's the mane, grab onto it. Good. Now hop and swing your right leg over."

Gil situated himself close to the horse's neck, and felt the other man behind him. The denim of his jeans rubbed against Gil's naked lower back, and he flinched slightly and the unexpected contact. "C'mon, be a man."

The man behind him, Gil had decided to call him Tristan, so…Tristan had a set of a reins in his hands and he brought them around Gil's body, trapping him inside of the thin leather ropes. "Hold on tight." Tristan clucked his tongue and the horse started to canter (though, Gil did not know this, the correct term).

A jolt of pain ran through Grissom where the phallus had been inserted and despite his blindfold, he closed his eyes tightly. "I'm going to fall off!" he yelled desperately into the wind. Though he might not mind falling off, maybe then Tristan would leave him behind with what little dignity he had left. Or maybe he would shoot him – Gil had no clue, and he didn't feel like playing Russian roulette today.

But Tristan wrapped an arm around Gil's waist, "Hold on with your legs, squeeze the horse."

It was an odd sensation, really, the horse's fur under his bare skin. Gil had never given much thought to the sensuality of doing "everyday" activities unrobed. Of course, horse back riding wasn't everyday to him, but perhaps it was to this man.

Eventually, the horse cam to a halt, Gil's head lolling on his chest as he dozed, until Tristan grasped some of his hair in a fist and pulled Gil's head back, causing him to wake abruptly in fright. The blindfold had been removed sometime during their ride, and Gil's eyes were wide with fear. _Am I going to die now? _"Get off my horse."

He jumped down and his feet his soft grass (thankfully). After playing with the blades between his toes for a few seconds, he turned to look at Tristan more closely. The man was young, a square set jaw, with a five o' clock shadow. _Probably clean shaven otherwise. _He was wearing jeans and t-shirt, but his shoes looked as though they were made of leather and wood, it seemed where-ever Tristan came from, they didn't use petrol.

"I…Um…"

"What?" Tristan spat out as he led the horse to a small pond, so it could drink water. There was another horse tied to its tail, and the young man set about untying the animal so it, too, could drink. "Spit it out, while you still can."

While Gil was mildly confused by that statement, his current needs outweighed his curiosity. "I need to go the bathroom." _A 40 odd year old man should not have to ask if he can take a leak._

"Yeah?" _Maybe I don't need permission._

"Where can I…?" Gil go an odd sense from this man, it caused a pink flush to pepper his cheeks.

"Right here," said Tristan, petting the horses and paying Gil very little mind. He seemed disinterested to say the least.

_Oh God._ Gil wouldn't even urinate in a public washroom when other people were in there, and they couldn't even see him. He blushed a deeper red before nodding. He had to work up the courage to do it now, in front of just this man – who knew what the conditions would be like later?

"Oh. Ok," he said dumbly. What else could he say? 'No, I'd really rather not, thank you.'? For some reason, Grissom felt he didn't have much say in the matter. So, he did his business, though not as quickly as usual and it seemed Tristan noticed his hostage's consternation at all this because he smiled a little, "It's ok, everyone's nervous the first few times." _You would be too if someone was judging your every move._

"Now look up," Tristan said, crossing his arms, "This will be your new home for the next two years."

A large house…mansion even…made of stone was about a mile away, at least four stories high. A flag flapped in the wind, and there were some men and women strolling in the courtyard – they must have ridden for hours for people to be outside already. It had to be at least 9:00…which meant four hours at 15 miles per hour (give or take). Gil was at least 60 miles gone. They would never find him…

"What happens after two years?" Grissom blanched at the thought.

"That's for you to find out. Now let's go." Tristan re-attached the horses as Gil stood still and watched contemplatively. Then his neck was grasped in a firm hold and he was led down a grassy knoll to get to the courtyard, and, subsequently, the house.

---------

"If you're gonna kidnap a CSI, you really should have better training than this." Nick scoffed. He tried a little humor, but his colleagues weren't blind – they could see him sweating under his clothes, scared to death of what might have happened to his supervisor.

Warrick put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "It's going to be okay, bud."

Greg and Sara nodded before bending back down to look at the tracks made by Gil's car. Nick was sifting through the pile of things left behind, while Warrick and Catherine combed the previous crime scene for anything that might help. Maybe there was something somewhere that could help. Anything.

Nick stood suddenly, grinning. "His cell phone isn't here. Maybe he's still got it on him." Against his better judgment – what if the captor didn't know Grissom had his cell phone? What if it rang? – the young man took out his own mobile telephone and dialed the number he knew so well. His face fell, however, when it rang once…twice…thrice...four times. Finally, an answering machine picked up.

"Hi, you've reached Gil Grissom. I obviously can't make it to the phone right now, please leave a message with your name and phone number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Nick clicked his phone shut, dropping it on the ground. Feeling more than slightly bereft, he bent down to continue sifting through his superior's belongings. He picked up the wallet and flipped through it until he came to the picture he wanted and had hoped would be there. Gil and him were standing in an one-arm, "manly" hug, both of them showing off the fish they had caught together. It was one of the only times they had ever done something together outside of work. It had given him nights of wanking material.

He looked around himself, making sure everyone was still absorbed in their work before slipping the picture free of its confines, kissing the matte surface and sticking it in his back pocket.

"Nick?!"

Sara was standing by her car, keys in hand. She hadn't just seen that, had she? "We're gonna follow the tracks," she said, opening the car door and pointing to Greg. "Do you want to come?"

"Yeah sure," he tried to seem nonchalant as he dropped the wallet back in the pile and walked towards her. _What, you think I'm crazy? _"Shot gun."

Greg sighed and climbed into the back of the vehicle. They drove at about 5 miles an hour so they could follow – and avoid covering – the tracks. But an hour and five miles later, spirits weren't high. It was raining, so any tracks further out would be washed away. As Sara pulled the car to a stop, a tense silence filled the car.

Suddenly, Nick turned to her, and Greg, sensing some emotion, slid himself out of the car, unbeknownst to Sara and Nick.

"What do we do if we never find him?" Nick pleaded with Sara, his eyes wide and starting to water.

"I…" Sara's pregnant pause was interrupted by a cry from Greg. He ran up to the car with a shirt clutched in his fist.

"I found his clothes!"


	2. Organic

After being led into the tall building, his knees sore from crawling on the cold stone, Grissom was led to a chamber with a basin in the center of the room, filled with steaming, soapy water. He was lifted under the armpits by two men and placed into the boiling hot water before a new man scrubbed over his skin. Hands were falling onto places which hadn't been touched by anyone in many years; he flinched and pulled away, only to receive a blow to the face in retribution.

Tristan stood in the corner, arms and legs crossed, watching the scene in front of him unfold. A lightly scented oil was rubbed over Gil's bare skin before he was pulled – with considerable force – out of the tub and toweled off aggressively.

He stood still, tears falling down his red face, while a brown, leather collar was buckled to his neck, a leather strap was attached to the collar, and then cuffed to his hands and cock. He was forced to his hands and knees and made to crawl. Every time he moved, the straps attached to his appendages pulled on his member, making the tears of shame fall faster.

He was led to a large dining room with a high ceiling. The table in the center, surrounded by people, did not have any food on it, however. Suddenly, Grissom was lifted by many arms and placed on the center of the table, lying on his back.

_Oh, God, _he thought, _They're going to eat me alive. _

His hands were tethered down, as were his feet. His fears were abated only slightly when a group of women brought food and drink into the room

_I am their center piece. _

Grissom's clothing was laid out on the table, and Greg was going over the articles slowly. The black pants didn't have anything on them, neither did his shirt. His undershirt however, had a small, red fiber on the collar. Greg plucked it off with a pair of tweezers and dropped it into an evidence envelope before calling out to Catherine. "I found a fiber!"

His supervisor (for the moment) walked in a grabbed the envelope, Nick at her heels, "Let's get this analyzed right now."

---------------

"They only make organic cotton in one place in Nevada." Catherine leaned back in her chair, away from the bright glare of the computer screen, grinning smugly at Nick.

"That's good. But how many places do they sell it to?" Nick looked down at her from his perch on the edge of the desk.

"1500," she mumbled, her smile fading, _how could I have missed that?_

"Okay, but how many people do they sell it to in small quantities?"

"Four."

"That's a much better number. Why don't we start with the one-"

"Closest to the scene and work our way out?" Sara said from the door.

"Yeah," Nick grunted.

"I'll drive." Catherine picked up her keys and they headed out. The car was hot from sitting in the sun, but Nick was still shivering, high on adrenaline. He looked at the map, which was going to take them to a large, open area, where someone seemed to be buying about 200 yards of the cotton a year.

"You okay, Nicky?" Catherine glanced over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I just want to find Grissom."

He had been on the table for what seemed like hours. His embarrassment and anxiousness had exhausted him. After being removed from the wooden surface, he was led on a leash to an underground room, lit with candles. Tristan was lying on the bed, the man who had led Gil in dropped the leash on the floor and turned and left.

"Get over here," Tristan called from the sumptuous bed.

Grissom crawled over to his captor, his chin at the edge of the mattress. His leash was tangled around his feet and he hoped no one would pick it up again tonight.

"Every night," Tristan spoke, rolling onto his side. "you will undress me, let me screw you senseless, and then go to sleep in the corner of my room."

"But – "

"Ah! Ah! Shh! Unless you want to be punished," he put a finger to his lips, half closing his eye lids.

"Please…" Gil moaned out the word, before Tristan snapped his fingers.

"I told you to behave." Two men walked in, grabbed his wrists, and began dragging him out.

"No, no…Sorry…"

"You didn't do as you were told, now you must be punished."

"But…But I…" He strained uselessly against the men holding him.

"They'll bring you back soon," Tristan sighed, reclining on his bed. "I want him back within the hour," he ordered his men, "Other than that, you may do as you please with him."

"No...No…Don't…" His heals were dragging as they pulled him out, slamming the large oak doors shut behind themselves.

He was being dragged into a dark room, when he heard the main doors open.

"Who's in charge here?"

_Catherine?_

He opened his mouth to scream, but a fist was swiftly stuffed inside. Something hard was shoved into his ass, his eyes widened in pain and shock as it probed the entrance. He had little time to react before the other man put his stiff member into Grissom's mouth. A hand grasped Gil's cock.

_No. You will not let them do this to you._

Pressure was pinning his prostate in a convulsing state. He was growing hard in this man's palm. Pre-come was dripping over the rough skin, onto his bent knees and to the ground. If they ever found him, they'd see his DNA mixed with these men's and think he had enjoyed it. He didn't. It was a physical reaction. That was all. But he couldn't tell himself that enough times.

"You like it, don't you, big man?" One of the men asked, pumping his cock.

Gil shook his head vigorously.

"Tell us how much you want it!" The other man ordered from behind him, tightening his grip on Grissom's hips.

He let his body go limp, giving up all hope. He was ashamed, embarrassed and his will abandoned him, left him alone in a dark room with two strange men, nodding his head.

They ripped at his insides, searing pain rolling through him as they tore his sensitive skin, making him bleed. He felt sick, throbbing pains assaulting his entire being as they mauled him. After both men had shot their hot seed into him, they pulled out and let him fall onto the hard floor.

"Don't go anywhere." They both tugged on their trousers and left.

Bu he did go somewhere. As he snuck out of the room, he realized the rest of the castle was asleep. He walked almost silently outside and climbed up the hill. The moist grass made way to harsh grounds of rocks and sticks, which destroyed the balls of his feet, making them bleed freely. After he had walked for at least an hour, with no clue as to where he was going, he squatted on the dirt. He had to pee and wanted to sit, but decided not to do so – he needed to preserve the evidence.

Suddenly, he heard an engine. He could not believe another stranger was going to find him naked. However, his dignity mattered little to him if it over-ruled his chance to live. He soon knew that it was not a stranger, but three of his CSIs. The Denali drove up beside his crouched form and Nick rushed out. "We went where you were, But we couldn't find you. Then we saw your foot prints. We followed them," his words were tumbling out of his mouth, a rushed jumble of mildly incoherent sounds as he reached out to hug Grissom.

"Don't touch me!"

Nick frowned, hurt.

"I'm evidence."

"You were…" Sara's voice came from the driver's seat and she winced as she said the last word, "raped?"

"Of course he was," Catherine replied quietly from the trunk, were she was searching for an SAE kit. "We found semen at the scene."

"Three samples?" Grissom asked, staring at the dirt.

"Yeah," Nick's voice was close to him, deep.

"On of them was mine."

Nick grimaced. "Cath, bring me that kit." He gestured at the small box she held in her hands and leaned down to mumble in Grissom's ear. "We'll do the kit ourselves, so that you can put some clothes on."

She walked over and handed the kit to Nick before walking back to car and climbing in. Nick knelt down by Grissom. "Do you want to do this yourself?"

"I…I could contaminate the evidence." He scrutinized the dirt between his eyes, saw a beetle dart across his feet.

"You could wear gloves," he said, undoing the Velcro on his vest, "I have an extra pair."

"But that's wrong. My DNA might mix where it shouldn't."

"Whatever you want, man." Nick started to pull on a pair of gloves.

"Never mind, I'll do it." Grissom had been through enough humiliation for years to come. He pulled on the gloves and was about to break open the kit when his shoulder hunched, the breath escaped his lungs and the tears started to fall. His body was wracked with silent sobs and he dropped the kit, collapsing into Nick's arms.

Nick brushed the hair off of his friend forehead, "Hey, come on, it's okay. I'll do it. You don't have to. Come on, man, you can sit in the trunk of the car."

He helped Grissom stand and – almost as an after thought – picked up the kit. Gil stood, tears on his cheeks, to the side of the vehicle until Nick had cleared a spot and laid a sheet down. He patted it softly before helping his supervisor inside. He quickly too the evidence and grabbed a set of clothes they had brought for him. Grissom fell asleep and they decided against taking him to the hospital.

-----------

When Gil woke up, he was in a bed, not his own, wearing a pair of boxers. He could feel his feet were bandaged before the state of panic set in. He didn't know if being found had been a dream. Maybe he was going to be punished for trying to run away. He kept his mouth shut, and in an attempt to assess the situation, tried to calm himself so he could take in his new surroundings. The furniture was new, the walls lacquered in a dark blue paint. Were those pictures of…cows?

Then he remembered passing out in Nick's arms in the back of the SUV, safe in his embrace.

"Nick?!" He wasn't sure if this was Nick's house, or even if he was there, but he could hope. "Nick?!" He pushed the blankets off and knew immediately that he still needed a shower. "Nicky?!"

He came running into the room, and book in his hands, the page marked by a thumb stuck inside. "You're awake." He smiled and set the book down before walking over to Gil. "I thought you'd want to clean yourself up."

"Thanks," Grissom replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are these…?" he asked, gesturing to the shorts he had on.

"Mine, yeah, sorry."

"Oh. No, no, it's all…Thank you."

Nick shifted, uncomfortable standing above Grissom. "You're welcome. I mean, it was the least I could do. Ecklie said I had too much overtime, made me leave."

"Oh," Grissom looked at his lap and a moment of thick silence filled the air between both men.

"Well, the bathroom's down the hallway. There's a towel in there. Catherine's almost here with a bag of your clothes."

Grissom nodded and started to rise, when a searing pain shot through him, throwing him back onto the mattress. His feet must have taken a real beating and it hurt if any pressure was applied to the sore flesh. Nick ran over to him, causing an obvious flinch in the older man.

"Sorry," he apologized, keeping his distance, "I just wanted to help."

"I know."

Both men were silent for a matter of moments before Nick turned to Grissom, finally asking the stupid question that couldn't be avoided.

"Will you be okay?"

"Not for a long time."

Nick nodded before extending a hand, "Can I help you?"

"Get there?"

"Sure."

Grissom latched onto the extended offering and the shuffled out the room and down the hallway together. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, a small night light illuminating the tile. The light was switched on a slight humming noise set in.

"I'll be down the hall if you need me, okay?"

"Alright."

Nick turned to leave before whirling around to face Grissom. "I was scared I might never see you again."

Grissom blinked, stared at him for a moment before the tension got to Nick, making him want to turn and leave the bathroom. He did, closing the door behind him. As he walked down the hall, he heard the door creak.

"Me, too, Nicky."

After 45 minutes of running water, Nick's imagination got to him. He threw down the book he had been looking over (reading the same page for the last half hour) and sauntered to the door. He knocked lightly on it, not wanting it to swing open.

"Griss? How you doin' in there, Buddy?"

No answer.

"Grissom?"

Still no answer.

"I'm comin' in, okay?" All he had to do was push slightly on the wooden door and it opened. Steam furled out of the room, and he saw the man's form curled in the corner of the tub.

"Aw man." He reached inside and turned off the tap. Grissom was shivering, his arms wrapped around his torso, his skin red, either from being scrubbed raw, or the heat. Maybe both. Nick grabbed the towel from where it was hanging over the toilet and went over to Grissom, draping the terry cloth across his shoulders. "Come on, it'll be okay."


End file.
